When the Wind Blows
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "A chill seems to settle into his bones when he hears the news." Lily falls mysteriously ill during the winter of seventh year, and James suspects she's been attacked. Or worse.
1. Worries

**When the Wind Blows**

Summary: When Lily falls mysteriously ill during the winter of their seventh year, James is determined to get to the bottom of it. Established Lily/James. This story is **canon** in that it respects relationships as they're described in the book (not as I might prefer to imagine them) and could have realistically happened in the HP world. Not AU in any way.

Rating: K+/PG.

Author's Note: I don't usually write or read HP fanfiction, so writing this was a very nerve-racking experience for me, perhaps more so than any other story I've written. You know have you have to think about something really happy to summon a Patronus? I think about getting reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Worries**

_So you sailed away  
__into a gray sky morning..._

January has always been James's least favorite month. Without Christmas and the school holidays to look forward to, he sees winter for what it really is – a season of short, dark days, and cold weather that leaves the Quidditch pitch covered in frozen mud. Sometimes, on nights when he can hear the chill wind whistling outside the dormitory window, he dreams of long, hot summer days. Of sunburns and swimming pools. He's never seen Lily in a bikini, but he'll bet any amount of money that she looks great in one.

Even inside Hogwarts, James can't escape the winter. There's a nip in the air of the wide stone corridors, and he's stopped putting his hand on the railing when he goes up and down stairs because it's always chill to his touch. There seems to be a chill in his very bones when he and Sirius arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, both of them bleary-eyed and exhausted. They were up late studying for the Transfiguration exam today. Seventh Year is only halfway over, but the pressure to pass NEWTs is mounting. James constantly feels torn in two: he wants to do well in school, but classes seem so trivial compared to what's happening in the rest of the wizarding world. Lily is the only person who helps him feel grounded now.

Lily wasn't in the Gryffindor Common Room when he left it, so James expects to find her already in the Great Hall, having an early breakfast. The enchanted ceiling above him is a dull, washed-out wintery gray as he scans the tables for Lily's fiery, dark red hair... which he can't find anywhere. When he spots a table full of her girlfriends – most of them have their Transfiguration textbooks open as they eat, studying for that exam – he grabs his tray and makes his way over.

He sits down next to Mary Macdonald, one of Lily's best friends, who's spreading butter on her toast in an awful hurry, like she's nervous. "Hey, Potter," she says, glancing at him. "Lily's not here," she adds. She knows he's looking for Lily before he can even ask the question.

"You know where she is?"

Mary doesn't look at him. "Yes" is all she says. James waits for her to go on, but she doesn't.

"Well, where is she?" he demands. He's already exhausted and on-edge from stress and lack of sleep, but now he's really starting to get annoyed.

Mary seems to take an especially long sip of her orange juice before answering, "Hospital wing."

Her words might be strong coffee for the effect they have on James. The fog in his tired mind instantly clears, and he sits up straight on the bench, alarmed. "The hospital wing?" he repeats. "What – "

"Keep your voice down," Mary hisses at him. She moves closer to him on the bench and goes on, in a whisper, "She woke me up last night, saying she thought she had a fever and asked me to go to the hospital wing with her. So I took her, and I wanted to stay and find out what was wrong, but Madam Pomfrey said she'd take care of her and made me go back to bed."

James is quiet for a second, processing this news, but it does nothing to ease the worry inside him. At last he says slowly, trying to convince himself, "Well, if she's with Madam Pomfrey, she's in good hands. I mean, it's probably not anything serious."

"Yeah," Mary agrees, "it's probably just some bug. There's lots of those going around in wintertime."

They're both quiet for a moment, and in the silence, James tries not to think of the ugly rumors that lurk in the school hallways. He tries not to think of all the students who didn't come back to school after the Christmas holidays because their parents were afraid that even Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore. Maybe they're right. He tries not to jump to conclusions, but it's like a dam burst in his mind, and worst-case scenarios flood out. Lily is Muggle-born. Maybe someone's cursed her to make her fall ill. Maybe she's been poisoned. Maybe it's fatal. Maybe it's already too late.

James tries to tell himself that Lily probably just has some boring winter illness, but when he glances at Mary, she looks as nervous as he feels, with her eyes sunken down, her mouth set in a thin line.

"It's just..." she murmurs, almost to herself, "Lily's always so brave, you know?"

James has to smile at that. Saying Lily's brave is like saying her eyes are green. It goes without saying.

"I mean, she's got more guts than anyone I know," Mary goes on, "and last night, she seemed scared. Like, really scared."

James tries to pay attention to the noise and commotion of the Great Hall. Students are loudly eating, talking, getting up from their tables, just like they do every morning, but James's mind is reeling with the worst possibilities. He knows that a number of Slytherin students are planning to join the Death-Eaters after graduation, and his blood runs cold as he remembers that one of them is Severus Snape, Lily's former... friend, or whatever they used to be to each other. Maybe now he's trying to get back at Lily for cutting ties with him in fifth year. Which, in James's opinion, is still the _smartest _thing she's ever done.

The chill in his blood turns to heat, to his heart pounding angrily in his chest, as he vows that everything he's done to Snape in the past will _pale_ in comparison to what he'll do if he finds out Snape –

"You know, there's still some time before classes start," Mary says, snapping him out of his rage. "I was about to head to the hospital wing and try to see her. You can come with me, if you're done."

James looks down at his plate. He hasn't eaten one crumb of his breakfast, but he doesn't feel hungry. All he wants is to see Lily, to know that she's all right. He picks up a slice of toast, takes one bite, and throws it back down. "I'm done," he declares. "Let's go."

He and Mary practically jump off the bench and run out of the Great Hall towards the hospital wing.


	2. Questions

For people following this story (if there are any), this was originally Chapter 3 and "Silence" was Chapter 2. I switched them around because I think the story makes more sense this way. Sorry for any confusion!

* * *

**Chapter 2  
****Questions**

_Remembering the girl  
__leaves me down and lonely..._

James has paid his share of visits to Hogwarts's hospital wing over the years – most of them courtesy of injuries he suffered playing Quidditch – so he thinks he's prepared for Madam Pomfrey's stern, strict nature. She might object, at first, to Lily having any visitors, but James is sure that if he and Mary beg hard enough, she'll let them see her. Even if it is just for a few minutes, even if Madam Pomfrey does watch them like a hawk the entire time, James is so worried about Lily by now, he'll take whatever he can get.

But he gets a lot less than he expects. Almost ten minutes after he and Mary arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey still hasn't let them see Lily. Hasn't told them what's wrong with her. Hasn't even let them through the door. She reminds James of a Keeper on a Quidditch team, the way she stands in the doorway, blocking it as if she were protecting a goal hoop. They've pleaded with her to let them in to see Lily, but to no avail.

"But can't you even tell us what's wrong with her?" James asks for the second time. It takes all the willpower he has to keep his voice polite and calm. He doesn't want to betray how nervous he is, or how much he wants to shove Madam Pomfrey out of the way, barge into the hospital wing, and find Lily. See her. Hold her in his arms and know she's all right.

Madam Pomfrey looks hard at James before answering him. There's a look in her eyes that he can't quite name – suspicion? – and it makes him even more worried. "She is not seriously ill, Mr. Potter," she says slowly, choosing her words carefully. "She'll be back in her classes tomorrow."

Mary brightens at this. "Really?" she asks.

Madam Pomfrey starts to nod, then hesitates. "Probably," she says.

"_Probably_?" James repeats. "What do you mean, _probably_?" But Madam Pomfrey ignores him.

"But I don't understand why can't even _see _her," Mary says for the third time. She's getting exasperated, while James is just getting angry.

"For the last time, she's _resting_," Madam Pomfrey answers firmly.

"Well, that's why we just want to say hi to her and leave!" James explodes, his impatience finally getting the best of him. "What do you think we're going to do? Ask her to get up and run a marathon?"

He regrets saying it almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Mary elbows him in the ribs, because they both know that any slim chance they had of Madam Pomfrey letting them see Lily is gone. James has never seen her look as stern as she does now. Her face is as cold as the bitter winter wind outside, and there's another look he can't name – accusation? – in her narrowed eyes as she glares at him.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Evans is my patient, and I am taking care of her." Madam Pomfrey's words are short and clipped. She looks briefly at Mary, then back at James – hate? – and goes on. "That is _all_ the two of you need to know, and if try to continue loitering outside my hospital wing, I shall turn you over to Mr. Filch."

Without another word, she turns on her heel and goes back into the hospital wing. James's heart leaps up as she opens the door, and he strains his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lily lying in one of the beds. But there's no sign of her anywhere, and all too soon Madam Pomfrey closes the door again.

Mary sighs angrily. "Nice going, Potter, way to piss her off," she says, glaring at him.

James glares back at her. "She wasn't going to let us see Lily anyway." He focuses on his anger at Madam Pomfrey because he'd rather be angry than scared. He's supposed to be a Gryffindor, one of the brave at heart, but he can't remember when he's ever been so scared. Lily was just fine when they did their homework last night in the Common Room. What would make her suddenly fall ill? Why wouldn't Madam Pomfrey let them see her? And those looks she kept giving him, like she blamed him for whatever had happened to Lily. _This whole thing stinks like Wormtail's socks._

Mary just picks up her satchel of schoolbooks, throws it over one shoulder, and starts off down the corridor. James briefly presses his palm flat against the heavy wooden door to the hospital wing and thinks loudly, "_Lily, are you in there? Are you okay?_" almost hoping that she'll somehow be able to hear him and answer him. But all he hears from the other side of the door is silence.

He catches up with Mary near the stairwell. "It's probably not that big of a deal," she says without looking at him. "I mean... you know how Pomfrey is. She's always been an overprotective freak when it comes to her patients."

"But to not even let us see her..." James mumbles, and he angrily kicks the hard stone wall of the corridor. Hot pain surges through his foot, and an elderly witch in hanging in a portrait nearby looks insulted and stalks out of the frame, her long robes sweeping behind her.

James leans heavily on his sore foot as he walks, trying to focus on the pain, but his mind goes back to Lily. What bothers him the most is that Madam Pomfrey refused to tell him what's wrong with her. If Lily really was attacked or poisoned, maybe the school wants to hush it up to avoid panic. Maybe Snape and Death-Eater buddies were involved. Maybe Lily will be back in class tomorrow, but with her memory modified, so she won't remember what really happened to her.

His first class is Transfiguration, but the exam he'd been studying so hard for suddenly doesn't seem important at all. He barely reads the questions. Instead he stares out the window at the pale gray winter day and remembers what Mary said about how Lily went to the hospital wing in the night. His imagination, which he's always loved for daydreaming in class, is starting to drive him crazy. He can't stop thinking about Lily waking up sick in the middle of a cold dark night while the bitter wind rattled the glass in the windowpanes. He can't stop picturing her pale and shaky. Feverish. Scared.

* * *

I know this chapter didn't resolve any issues or answer any questions. The next one will be better.


	3. Silence

This was originally Chapter 2. The quotes at the beginning of each chapter all come from the Vertical Horizon song "Best I Ever Had (Gray Sky Morning)."

* * *

**Chapter 3  
****Silence**

_But I can't take it so  
__I run away and hide..._

Lily wakes up with tears in her eyes and no memory of her dreams. The air around her bed is dark and quiet, which surprises her, and she wonders how long she was asleep. Then she realizes that it's surely daytime; Madam Pomfrey must have cast a darkness spell over her bed to help her sleep. The sheets feel blessedly cool against her body, which is still sweaty and sore. Lily wants nothing more than to continue lying down and drift back to sleep, but the sooner Madam Pomfrey thinks she's well, the sooner she can get out of the hospital wing and back to classes. She does _not_ want to stay here and dwell on what happened last night.

She slowly pushes herself up into a sitting position, even though her body hasn't yet recovered from last night, and her muscles beg her not to move. There's a feeling of weakness all over – probably because she lost so much blood – dull aches in her stomach and across her back, and a throbbing pain between her legs. _But other than that_, Lily tells herself, _I've never felt better._

There's a rustling sound, and Lily turns to see Madam Pomfrey letting herself through the curtain drawn around her bed. She waves her wand, and a soft light fills the dark space. When she sees Lily awake and sitting up, she pauses. In the light, Lily's face is impossibly pale, which makes her hair seem redder, as though all her blood had run there to hide.

"What are you doing up? I hope you haven't been awake long,"she says with a frustrated sigh. Lily can tell that Madam Pomfrey wants to scold her for being awake at all and order to go back to sleep immediately, but she's holding back. "You only got to sleep a few hours ago, and you're in desperate need of a good rest. How do you feel?"

_Fine_, Lily wants to answer, but her lips feel clumsy and the word won't come. She shrugs.

For a moment, Madam Pomfrey just looks at her, her eyes swimming with pity and sadness. Lily quickly looks away from her gaze, down at her pale hands resting on the white sheet – which is a mistake, because it makes her remember how her hands wouldn't stop shaking last night. She prays Madam Pomfrey isn't about to become emotional. Lily can't deal with that. She doesn't even want to _think_ about what happened, much less talk about it with Madam Pomfrey, of all people.

But the matron must sense Lily's discomfort, because she quickly becomes all business again. "Are you still in any pain?"she asks briskly.

_No_, Lily wants to answer, but Madam Pomfrey would probably know it's a lie, so she nods.

"Then I should probably examine you, as long as you're already awake, " she says. "Lie down."

Lily silently obeys, lying down flat on the bed as Madam Pomfrey pulls down the sheets. She's still wearing the big, oversized shirt that she usually sleeps in, the one she had on when she arrived in the hospital wing with Mary. It's not smeared with blood anymore, though. Madam Pomfrey must have siphoned that off with her wand while she was asleep. Lily is grateful for the matron's professional manner, the way she remains all business as she examines her, as well as for the way she still feels half out of herself. It's almost as if she's dreaming or watching this happen to someone else. Almost.

"You're recovering very well, all things considered," Madam Pomfrey says when she's done. Her tone is serious but calm; she might be discussing the weather. "I'm willing to let you return to your classes tomorrow, if you feel well enough, but you'll need to take it easy for a few days. Make sure you get plenty of rest. I took the liberty of telling your professors you came down with a mild case of scrofungulus."

Madam Pomfrey goes on, but Lily doesn't listen. Instead she replays what was just said. Her professors think she has scrofungulus. She realizes that if her body heals quickly enough, if she goes back to classes tomorrow and acts natural, nobody will know what happened. Madam Pomfrey has always been discreet; she won't say anything. Lily could actually put this all behind her without anybody knowing. _Not even James_, she thinks with a jolt. But then guilt washes over her at the idea of keeping this from James. Shouldn't she tell him?

The silence distracts Lily from her thoughts. Madam Pomfrey has stopped talking, and she's watching Lily closely, with a look on her face like she just asked a question. Lily immediately nods, hoping Madam Pomfrey is about to leave so she can escape back to sleep, but to her horror, the matron gets that same sad, pitying look in her eyes. Lily starts to feel the cold sense of dread from last night. _No no no_, she thinks desperately, _don't ask __me questions. Don't make me talk about this._

"Lily..." Madam Pomfrey begins delicately, and Lily's dread turns to pure panic. She's _never _heard Madam Pomfrey address students by their first names. "...physically, you should recover from this quite quickly. But it's more your... emotional recovery that concerns me. Do you want to talk about this? Do you want me to contact your parents?"

_No_, Lily wants desperately to answer, _don't tell my parents, whatever you do_. But she doesn't trust her voice to be steady, so she just shakes her head hard. She's still lying flat on her back in bed – it hurts to lie on her stomach – staring up at the ceiling, like she might miss something important if she looks away from it.

Madam Pomfrey sighs softly. "How you want to handle this is your decision," she says at last, "but I hope you'll remember that you don't have to go through this alone."

Lily still doesn't answer, but her vision blurs with tears and she blinks hard the ceiling.

After Madam Pomfrey leaves and her bed is dark again, Lily lies perfectly still until she hears her footsteps fade away down the hospital wing. Then she reaches for her bedside table, where she finds the two things she wants – a goblet of a powerful dreamless sleep potion, and a quill. She drinks the entire potion in one go, taking hard, fast gulps. Then she takes the quill in one hand, pulls the covers over her head, and slowly rolls over until she's lying on her side.

Beneath the blankets, the darkness is even heavier, and the rest of the world seems far away. What happened last night seems far away. Lily listens to her breath grow deeper as steadier the potion does its work. In the darkness, she holds out her pale, bare forearm and begins to write on it with the quill, pressing almost hard enough to break the skin. Then she reads and rereads the words she's written on her body. She's always been brave, but this will require a different kind of bravery.

Just before she falls asleep, she finally breaks her silence. She reads the words aloud. "_You have to tell James_," she says, and her own voice is the last thing she hears before the potion pulls her under, and her mind goes dark.


	4. Answer

**Chapter 4  
****Answer**

_It may take some time  
__to patch me up inside..._

Evening comes, but James can't tell. There's no sunset, no golden light slanting through the castle windows and climbing up the walls. Outside, everything looks just the same as it did that morning. The gray clouds are still chasing each other across the endless gray sky, and the sun never emerges from behind them.

All day in his classes, James hunches over the desks with his shoulders set in a stiff line. He tries to concentrate on his lessons, tries to distract himself from the anger in his stomach and the fear in the back of his mind, but whenever he starts to take notes, he presses so hard on the parchment that he breaks quill after quill. With Lily and the sun both being kept from him, his life seems empty of light and warmth.

_Where is Lily? What happened to her? Why can't I see her?_ He wishes more than ever that he still had the Marauder's Map; it would make him feel so much better just to be able to see the little dot labeled _Lily Evans_ in the hospital wing.

At least he doesn't have to wait long to go looking for her. The winter day is short, and night falls early. As soon as it does, James pulls on his Invisibility Cloak and slips out of the Gryffindor Common Room. After six years, he's a pro at moving through hallways and up and down stairs without making a sound, and he arrives at the hospital wing in no time. Even though he's been dying all day to see Lily, once outside the entrance, he hesitates, afraid of what he might find. _Please let Lily be all right_, he prays silently. Then he takes a deep breath to steel his nerves – like he always does before a Quidditch match, except this is bigger than any Quidditch match – and pushes open the door.

* * *

The sound is soft, but it wakes Lily from her deep sleep in the hospital bed. The dreamless sleep potion was so powerful that she slept for most of the day, oblivious to everything – the people hurrying through the castle around her, the cold winter winds still moaning outside its walls, the memory of what happened last night. It feels good to be so numb, but as soon as she hears the sound, it pulls her out of her dark, comfortable stupor.

Lily stirs in bed. She knows the sound as soon as she hears it. James's footsteps across the floor. She's been half-waiting to hear them, even in her sleep. Pushing herself up, she sits in silence for a moment. This is the last of something between her and James, this moment when he still doesn't know. For better or worse, their relationship is about to change. Quickly, before she has time to get scared and back out of telling him, she calls his name in a whisper.

James lets out the breath he's been holding in a huge relieved sigh when he pulls back the curtain and sees her sitting there. His sigh is so strong that it's almost a wind, and as it blows across her face, Lily closes her eyes for a moment. James closes the curtain behind him and sits down on the edge of her bed, and they embrace. Her skin is warm, and when he touches it, the icy cold fear that settled in his chest when he found out she was sick begins to melt. James is talking a mile a minute – "What happened? Mary said you were really sick. Are you okay? I came by earlier, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me see you, and I could've killed her." – but Lily is only half-listening. In her mind, she's rehearsing what to say, how to tell him.

When they pull apart, James looks at her, waiting for her to talk, but Lily looks away, down at her arms resting on top of the sheet. He follows her gaze – _Blimey, she's pale – _and sees smeared ink on the inside of Lily's arm, as though someone had written something there. Lily takes a deep, shuddering breath, almost a gasp, and the sound is so loud that it seems to echo off the walls. James feels a cold sweat trickle down his back.

"I think the best way is to just say it. So, um, I'll just say it. Okay. I'll just... I'll be blunt." Lily's words are soft and fast, like it pains her to speak, but they're perfectly clear. James understands every word of what she says next. "What happened to me is I had a miscarriage."

* * *

In fifth year, James took a bludger to the head during a Quidditch match. It didn't hit him hard enough to knock him out, but it made his head ring with pain – a shrill noise like a thousand tiny bells – and his sight started swimming until he didn't know which way was up. That's what it feels like now. His head is ringing, replaying Lily's words over and over, until everything else is drowned out. He's so shocked that if someone asked him his name, all he could is stare blankly.

Vaguely he realizes Lily is waiting for him to say something – anything – but his mind is reeling with so many questions that he can't put two words together. He won't bother asking if he was the father, because who else could be? He won't ask how far she was, because they only did it once. Late October, just after the first frost, a regular make-out session had kept going until their bodies clenched together, hot and sweaty. Finally words seem to come to his mouth of their own accord.

"I didn't know – Why... why didn't you tell me you were..." The part of him that isn't too shocked to think straight is horrified at what he's saying. It sounds too accusatory, but Lily seems to have been expecting it, because she doesn't let him finish.

"I was going to tell you, I _wanted _to tell you." Her words are a jumbled-up rush now, like she's been wanting to say them for a long time. "But – oh, it feels so stupid to say this, but I didn't know right away. You can skip your period because of stress, you know? And I thought that's what happened. I didn't know I was going to have a b..." She stops on the word. She can't bring herself to say _baby_. "I didn't know until I was, like, two months, and then I wanted to keep it to myself for a little while to get used to the idea. Then I kept waiting for the right moment to tell you, but I just... It just happened so fast."

James is still speechless, taking it all in. He counts backwards from October, and another wave of shock slams into him, mixed with guilt this time. Lily had been carrying their baby inside her for _three months_, and he was never any the wiser? He racks his brain, trying to remember if there was a new roundness to her body that he hadn't noticed. Had he been stressed over schoolwork and Voldemort gaining power (he adds the stress of having a baby to that, and his heart aches at how Lily must have felt) that he hadn't even realized she was pregnant?

"I wish you would've told me," he says softly, shock turning to sadness. There's so much death and destruction in the world now that the hope of new life, the joy and wonder of imagining himself a father, would be worth the risk of grief. He only feels sorry for Lily, who never had a choice, who suffered this far alone. He wants to tell her how sorry he is, but he can't find the words, so instead he whispers, "Scoot over."

James climbs into bed and lies down beside Lily, his body curling protectively around hers, his right arm tucked under her head, his left arm draping softly over her waist. He kisses her, very gently, on the back of her neck, hoping his kiss will say it all. James's skin is cool, and when she touches it, Lily feels the burning sensation that's been in her belly since last night start to melt. It's as if she's been stuck in this hospital wing for years, as if her body's been hot and sweaty for years. She can't wait to get back to her classes, to walk the chilly hallways and stone staircases in the early evenings, to put all this behind her.

* * *

I meant to update this sooner, but real life has been hectic lately.


	5. Tears

**Chapter 5  
Tears**

_Nothing's quite the same now.  
__I just say your name now..._

When James arrives in the Great Hall the next morning, he can't believe it's been only a day since he stood in this same spot, under the same slate-gray sky, worrying about the Transfiguration exam and wondering where Lily was. His world seems to have rocked on its hinges since then, and nothing is the same. In his heart, he understands his relationship with Lily has changed, deepened. She isn't just his girlfriend anymore; she can never be just that again. She was, or would've been, the mother of his child.

He's caught off-guard when Lily shows up beside him, her books on one arm, tossing her hair over her shoulder, like always. She's talking, her voice fast and brisk, about making up the Transfiguration exam that she missed yesterday.

Lily is looking and acting so normal that for a minute, James is almost convinced. For a minute, he almost wants to go along with her and pretend that nothing happened, nothing's changed, they weren't almost parents. But she hasn't quite gotten all her color back, and he still can't forget the far-away look in her eyes or the dead tone in her voice last night, when she told him.

So when she asks him if he has the homework assignments for the classes she missed yesterday, he asks her, as gently as he can, "Why are you acting like nothing happened?"

Which is when she turns on her heel and walks away from him. The Great Hall is crowded with students, like it is every morning, and Lily disappears into the crowd so suddenly that James wonders if she Disapparated. But however she did it, she's gone. Again.

James just stands there, the other students jostling around him, staring at the place where he last saw her back. He briefly considers not trying to find her – _maybe she needs some time alone _– but he dismisses the idea immediately. She was alone all day yesterday, and look what that did for her. Look what it did for _him_; he nearly went crazy worrying about her, not knowing where she was. Not again.

Out of nowhere, James remembers the girls bathroom on the second floor. He doesn't know what makes him think of it (Lily had mentioned to him once that no one ever used it – something about a crazy ghost girl) but as he makes his way up to the second floor, so preoccupied that he's hardly away of what route he takes, he somehow instinctively knows that she'll be there.

When he comes in, Lily is standing perfectly still, her back to the door, in front of one of the sinks. Her head is down, her wavy hair hanging on either side of her face, and her hands are gripping the sink tightly. She raises her head sharply when James enters, and when she sees him standing behind her in the mirror, she quickly looks away.

"This is a girls toilet," she says, and her voice is dull and flat – like the gray winter sky outside. "You're not supposed to be in here."

James is silent for moment, studying Lily's reflection, since she won't turn around and look him. Her bright green eyes are brighter than usual, full of tears she won't spill. Her hands are gripping the sink so tightly her knuckles are white. When he finally speaks – "_I'm sorry_" seems inadequate – his voice is tense, because it's not easy for him to say this. But he knows Lily needs to hear it.

"You know what I did last night, after I left the hospital wing?" he asks her, and she raises her head, curious. He can see a desperate longing in her eyes, can almost hear her thinking, _Whatever you did to get over this, I want to do it, too_. "Well, I went back to Gryffindor Tower, and I... cried on Sirius's shoulder... for probably twenty solid minutes."

And for a moment, James's mind goes back to the boys dormitory last night. He was grateful for the darkness – so no one could see the hot tears streaking down his cheeks, even though he knew no one would blame him for crying over this – and for the way Sirius had remained so calm. "Do you want to talk about this, mate?" was all he asked, and James choked out a no. He actually did want to talk about it – he aching to tell someone what had happened – but Lily didn't want anyone to know, even Sirius. So he said no, and Sirius didn't push. He just threw an arm around James's shoulder and said soberly, "Well... I wish I knew what to say."

He watches the line of Lily's back stiffen at his words. This wasn't the answer she had wanted to hear. James knows she's trying to forget all this; he just doesn't know why. Has she cried over it at all yet? If he had known she was pregnant when he tried to see her yesterday morning, he would've never taken no for an answer. He would've seen Lily if he had to kill Madam Pomfrey to do it.

"Do you know why I cried for so long, Lily?" He goes on without waiting for an answer this time. "I cried because this is worth crying over. I mean..." He pauses, trying to chose his words before he says them. He doesn't want to it sound like he's blaming her or accusing her. "...we would've had a baby."

The word _baby_ hangs in the air between them. The word Lily had been avoiding. She turns her head and looks in the mirror at James standing behind her. There's so much concern in his eyes. How can she possibly make him understand?

"I was going to tell you," she begins. This much isn't so hard to get out, because she already said it last night. But as she goes on, her breath becomes ragged, until she's almost panting, the words are so hard to say. "But... I wanted to get used to the idea first, and... I had just... just gotten used to it when..."

And Lily swallows and stops there because it's too hard to go on. Maybe talking about it was a mistake; the memories are too close now. Her control starts to crack, and everything she's been trying to forget comes rushing back to her in terrible, vivid flashes...

_Flash_. Waking up in pain, in a panic, throwing the blankets off because bloody hell, it's like she's on fire.

_Flash_. Her legs shaking so much she can hardly walk. The cold floor beneath her bare feet. The burning cramps in her belly that almost bend her double.

_Flash_. The warm, sticky blood smearing her thighs as life itself leaks out from between her legs. The life of her and James's baby.

When Lily comes back to herself, to this moment in the bathroom with James, she finds that she's resting her head on his shoulder, and his arms are wrapped around her. She doesn't even remember leaving the sink and moving toward him. She doesn't even realize she's talking again until she hears her own voice in her ears.

"I... I had a name picked out. For a girl."

It's like a veil is lifted in his mind, and James suddenly understands why he could cry over before Lily. It's because it was harder – _so much harder_ – for her than for him. He hadn't even known she was pregnant until last night, but Lily had lived with the knowledge over a month. A month to dream, hope, think about names, imagine the sound of an infant's first cry or the grasp of a chubby little fist. She had felt her breasts grow heavier, her belly grow thicker... until that cold night when all those dreams came bleeding out of her body.

"Yeah?" he asks her, and his voice is gentle. He remembers how gently his mother had spoken to him when he six and his puppy died, but he was determined not to cry because he was a big boy now. "What name was it?"

"Stella" is all she says, and her tears finally fall.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_You may find in time..._

Spring, when it finally comes, is warm and wet and heavy. On a balmy March evening, Lily takes a small, faded book from her trunk, very discreetly leaves Gryffindor Tower, and slips out of Hogwarts and onto the school grounds. The golden sunset is starting to fade from the sky, but it's still light enough for Lily to find her way towards the lake, and she sits on the grass near the shore, listening to the calm, gentle lap of the water.

A few patches of old, gray snow lay here and there – signs of the harsh, bitter winter still lingering – but the air is full of spring, loud with birdsong and heady with the smell of flowers. Lily holds up the little book in her hands and looks at the cover for a moment. Then she opens it up, right to page she wanted, and by the last golden rays of the dying spring day, she reads the neat print.

_I know a place where Summer strives  
__With such a practiced Frost  
__She – each year – leads her daises back  
__Recording briefly – Lost_

When Lily read the poem as a child, it made no sense to her. But now its meaning couldn't be clearer. The lines are about the spring, the place where summer struggles against the fierce frost of winter to be born. Their battle is bitter, and summer's birth is a painful one, but each year, she manages to find her way back into the world, leading her daises behind her. They were lost for a moment, but they're reborn.

Looking around her, Lily can see spring as the battleground between winter and summer; she sees it in the pale green tufts of grass growing up bravely through an old patch of snow. She can see that the same thing happened to her last winter, on that freezing cold night when her body became a battleground between life and death. It was a sharp, painful struggle, but in her case, the winter won.

The ground beside the lake is soft and moist, easy to dig. Lily sinks her hands again and again into the warm earth – relishing the feel of dirt under her nails and in the lines of her palms – until she's clawed out a shallow hole.

She never asked Madam Pomfrey what she did with the remains of her baby – or what would have been her baby. She never laid eyes on it herself, never even knew if it was a boy or girl. But she always felt in her heart that she would've had a little girl. Stella. If Lily were still pregnant, her belly would be big now, swelling with new life, just as the spring brought new life into the world around her. Lily lets herself imagine the soft curl of her baby's hair, a tiny pink mouth like a rosebud.

Her eyes go back to her book, to the words she wrote on the page, just below the poem.

_Stella Potter  
__January 1978_

And as the sun sinks down and the stars come out, Lily gently tears the page from the book, places it in the little hole she's dug, and covers it up with earth. As she pats it down, she tells herself that the pain will never _completely_ go away, because the loss of any dream is a very significant loss. But she also tells herself that no matter what, life goes on, as surely as spring is reborn every year, and the cold, gray skies of winter turn into the warm, golden days of summer.

**FIN**

* * *

Okay, so this wasn't my best fanfic ever. I do think I learned something from the experience of writing it, though.


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